A tale of two birthdays.

Today is my wife’s birthday. It’s almost anticlimactic considering she’s been telling me all about it for weeks. She wasn’t nagging on about it because she thought I’d forget but because to her it’s like Christmas morning.

For those that read this blog, I’m pretty sure you can deduce that I don’t get excited about my own birthday. It’s another day and another year older. Would seem funny that I’d be married to someone who thinks just the opposite. There’s a reason she does and that is what I wanted to share with all of you.

My wife’s attitude about her birthday is the right one.

Years ago she used to volunteer at a summer camp for kids with cancer. In the summer before her 19th birthday there was one young adult in attendance that everyone loved. He had the ability to take over a room with his energy and lust for life. His performance as a “member” of Boyz II Men during the camp concert was second to none. That summer his leukemia had come back.

A few months after camp had ended that year, she found out that he didn’t have long to live. His lifelong struggle ended just a few days before my wife’s birthday. He was 19. She spent her birthday that year at his funeral, grieving with the parents and other counselors. She swore she would never take her birthday for granted again.

Every year she celebrates life, not just hers but everyone she knows. It’s her day to stop, smell the flowers and reflect. Reflect on people she once knew who aren’t with us anymore and who left too soon.

Birthdays mean something different to everyone.

Every year as the end of October arrives, I know I can look forward to my wife’s daily reminders, planning and energy about her big day. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Today I’m going to help her celebrate life, not just hers but our kids and friends and people from a long time ago. We’re going to surround ourselves with people we love. We’ll smile and laugh and be thankful. Thankful for life.